


A Series Of Miracles

by ice_hot_13



Category: Original Work
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-06
Updated: 2012-11-06
Packaged: 2017-11-18 02:39:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,216
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/555962
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ice_hot_13/pseuds/ice_hot_13
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One Halloween, Aaron comes home to Ryan to apologise.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

 

            Aaron’s made a lot of mistakes. A _lot_ a lot, and he’s only twenty-seven. They’ve all been disastrous mistakes, all the worst kind, but at least he hasn’t made any like that in the past three years. He hasn’t hurt anyone like that in a while. It isn’t just him anymore, and thinking of someone before himself makes him realise that’s a very new concept for him.  
            Like this move. He wanted to tell his company no, unwilling to go back to Vancouver, this setting of his first disaster. He agreed, though, because now he can afford an actual house, because he’s never really liked the tiny Toronto apartment, because instead of staying away, he’s going right back to apologise. It’s six years too late, but when he texted last night to ask about coming over, the reply was _sure_ and an address in the suburbs of Vancouver.  
            It’s been six years, but he can’t stand to wait even a day after getting to BC; the flight gets in at five, and this is the first place he’s going.  
            “Daaadddyyy,” he hears from the backseat of the rental car.  
            “Yeah, princess?” he looks around as they’re at a stoplight; Clara has her little hands pressed to the window, leaning up from her carseat.  
            “When’s Hall’een?” she asks. Aaron groans inwardly. This isn’t like last year, when they flew out to see his parents for Christmas, actually flew the day _of_ Christmas because flights were cheaper, and he just told Clara the next day was really Christmas. She’s four now, knows what it means when she keeps seeing kids walking down the street carrying little plastic pumpkins and wearing costumes. And in the midst of all this, packing up and shipping things, sorting out everything at work, and _this,_ where they’re going now – Aaron completely forgot today was Halloween.  
            “Uh, it’s today.” This earns him silence, like she _knows_ that he has no idea where her new Halloween costume is, and that there aren’t actually any plans to go trick-or-treating. _Goddamn,_ he’s such a bad father sometimes, forgetting an entire holiday. She’s been looking forward to this all month; she has three different costumes, thanks to Aaron’s parents and his aunt, has worn each dress ten times each. She’s in the pink one now, has been saving the purple, sparkly one for Halloween itself; she insisted that her carryon be the plastic pumpkin she’s taking for trick or treating, the same way it’s been her backpack and her purse and her grocery bag for weeks, coming with her everywhere. “We’ll – do something, I promise. I’ll think of something, okay?”  
            “Daddy,” Clara mumbles sulkily.  
            “I’m sorry, princess. But we’ll do – something.”  
            Clara sighs sadly, touches the window again. “Where we going now?”  
            “We’re gonna go see Daddy’s friend, remember?” Aaron just – couldn’t wait until tomorrow to do this, the only thing that could be this important. They were so young – too young to be hurt that badly. This is the least Aaron could do.           
            “Are there kids?”  
            “Um.” Aaron just – doesn’t know, doesn’t know _anything._ “I don’t know. We’ll have to find out.” Anything could have happened, in six years. Aaron knows that acutely well. In six years, he destroyed his best friend, moved away from his hometown, hooked up with girls he wasn’t attracted to in the slightest, had one show up with a baby and tell him she was done. He’s grown up a lot in six years, but he still feels like he’s stuck in that day, when he made his best friend cry and walked away.  
            The address brings him to a little townhouse, matches all the other ones in the row, with a string of lights on the balcony railing, the tiny yard giving no clues. Aaron parks, goes around to the backseat to unbuckle Clara. She looks longingly at the groups of kids trick-or-treating, makes a sad little sound.       
            “Hall’een my favourite, Daddy.” She holds her arms up and he picks her up, hugs her.  
            “I’m sorry, Clara. We’ll do something, I promise. I just need to do this first.” He brushes her bangs out of her eyes, smoothes her long black hair down. He’s always hyper-aware that he’s a single father of a little girl, tries valiantly not to let this set Clara apart; he’s careful about making sure her clothes match, brushes her hair every morning so it doesn’t get tangled, has learned to braid. He doesn’t want her to be at a disadvantage simply because she’s his.           
            “Alright, let’s go in,” Aaron says, suddenly even more nervous than he was before. He spent the plane trip worrying about what he could possibly say, even wished Clara wasn’t peacefully sleeping, just so he’d have a distraction, and that’s how he knows he’s totally lost it, _wishing_ that his toddler was being noisy on the plane.  
            “I hope there’s kids,” Clara says, and it makes Aaron’s stomach twist. Horribly, he hopes the opposite. He wants – wants nothing to have changed, even though he already knows everything has.  
            “Well, we’re gonna find out,” he manages, walks up the path and rings the doorbell. He kisses Clara’s forehead, hugs her close as he waits. He thought about taking her to his parents’, but they’re over an hour away, and, pathetically, he doesn’t think he could face this without his daughter, the only reason he realised how unforgivably he used to act.  
            The moment Aaron sees Ryan, he’s right back to that day six years ago, seeing Ryan slide down the wall and sit with his face in his hands, can still hear the way Ryan sobbed.  
            “Hi,” Aaron offers up, can’t really breathe.  
            “Hey.” Ryan looks nearly the same as he did at twenty-one, but he – he doesn’t smile, his eyes aren’t as bright. He opens the door a little more, steps back to let Aaron in. “Who’s this?” he asks as he closes the door. Clara’s looking around curiously, and Aaron knows she’s looking for signs of children. There aren’t any, the place is semi-neat and only a little organized, no evidence of kids, of a family.  
            “My daughter,” Aaron says, “Clara.” She doesn’t look up, just buries her face against Aaron’s neck.  
            “Oh,” Ryan looks surprised, frowning a little. “I didn’t think you – I mean, you weren’t planning, but I guess you were too young to know-” He cuts himself off, crosses his arms over his chest like he wants to hide, this mention of a time before this.  
            “It was a surprise.” Aaron tucks Clara’s hair behind her ear, looks at her because it’s easier than looking at Ryan, who may as well be in tears for how clearly Aaron can still see it. “Stroller on the doorstep style. But I’m – I’m okay at this,” he says, helpless with the need for Ryan to know that he doesn’t still suck at every kind of human interaction there is. _I’m not ruining her,_ he wants to defend himself, _I swear, I’ve learned._  
There’s the sound of barking from the other room, and Clara’s head pops up. _“Doggy?”_ she asks Aaron, “Daddy, there’s a _doggy!_ Can I see?” She’s wanted a dog since she saw _101 Dalmatians,_ and  their apartment building didn’t allow pets.  
            “I dunno, honey,” he starts, but she ignores him, twists in his arms to hold her hands out to Ryan.  
            “Can I see doggy, Ryan, please?” she asks, smiles winningly. He looks surprised, and Aaron blushes.  
            “I told her about you, a little.” She’s seen pictures of Aaron, and Ryan was in so many of them, it required some kind of explanation. “You don’t have to-”  
            “It’s fine, he’s nice,” Ryan says, so Aaron sets Clara down, and she runs towards the sound of the dog’s yipping. Aaron follows Ryan into the kitchen, where Clara is standing next to a baby gate, poking her fingers through and giggling as the Husky licks her fingertips.  
            “What’s doggy’s name?” she asks, as Ryan crouches beside her, reaches over the gate to pet the Husky.  
            “Vanya.”  
            “Vaaaaanyyyaaaaa,” Clara wiggles her fingers, giggles. She looks up at Aaron, smiling. “Is okay Hall’een bad, Daddy. I like doggy more.” Ryan arches an eyebrow at this, and Aaron reddens with embarrassment.  
            “I forgot it was Halloween.”  
            “I guess you wanted to go trick or treating, huh?” Ryan asks Clara, who nods. This is something Aaron never imagined he’d see, but he can already guess precisely what will happen, yet another section of memories with Ryan to remind him. They worked at a kid’s camp one summer; Aaron hung out with the other counselors too much, and Ryan was the kids’ favourite. “There are kids going around here,” Ryan says, looking up to Aaron.           
            “I – yeah, I guess. I just – I haven’t even thought about what to do. We just, um. Flew in.”  
            “The airport is _big,”_ Clara tells Ryan. “The plane is so, so big! Daddy,” she adds, “trick or treat _here?”_ Her eyes are wide, bright with excitement, and Aaron looks to Ryan, an instinct he didn’t realise he would still have.  
            “You could,” Ryan shrugs a shoulder. “You already have a princess dress on,” he says to Clara, and she nods enthusiastically.  
            “No princess crown,” she says sadly. “And no magic wand.”  Aaron hears the warble in this, knows she’s about to cry.  
            “Clara,” he starts.  
            “It’ll be okay,” Ryan says gently, “we can fix that.” He stands, looks to Aaron. “You handle the door?” he asks, and Aaron can only nod. It’s just getting dark, and  trick or treaters are starting to show up, and it keeps him busy for a little while, answering the door and giving out candy. He can just hear Ryan’s voice from the kitchen, and it sounds like he must be smiling. Aaron wants to _see,_ but his presence would make Ryan darken and quiet. Clara’s chattering and giggling, and when Aaron hears Ryan laugh, all he can do is thank God for his daughter for the millionth upon millionth time. It makes sense, his newest, perfect little miracle getting along so well with the first miracle Aaron was ever given.  
            _“Daddy!_ Daddy _looookkk!”_ he hears before long, and Clara comes running over to him, jumps up on the couch beside him. “I have a crown, and a wand!” They’ve fashioned her a little crown, foil over paper, decorated in red sharpie by the little hearts Clara’s learned to carefully draw, and she has a wand too, a wooden spoon covered in pink paper that looks like it used to be a flyer, real flowers taped to either side of the spoon’s head.  
            “Oh, princess, that’s great,” Aaron says, kisses her forehead. He looks around for Ryan, but he’s gone to answer the door again. “Did you tell Ryan thank you?” Clara hops up, runs to meet Ryan as he comes into the living room.  
            “Thank youuuu!” she sings out, and he smiles. If Aaron had known how sweet Ryan would be with Clara, if he’d known she would look at him like this, a hero for making her a princess crown, he’d have always wished this for her. He knows the way she feels; he’s spent nearly his whole life being amazed by Ryan.  
            “No problem,” Ryan tells her, “should we go?” he glances over to Aaron, and Aaron nods.  
            “Doggy come?” Clara asks, “Vanya come?”  
            “Sure, he can come,” he says, making Clara shriek with joy.  
            “C’mon, let’s go get your jacket and pumpkin from the car,” Aaron says, and Clara runs to follow him outside. She waits impatiently as he unlocks the trunk, poking through the bags. He hands her the little pumpkin, sets about finding a jacket.  
            “Daddy, I like Ryan,” she says, swishing her dress around, “he’s so nice.”  
            “I know, honey, he is.”  
            “But, _daddy!”_ she shrieks suddenly, and he looks over quickly, sees nothing wrong. “Daddy, lives in _Bancouver,”_ she says, distress on her face. “We live in Torono!” She looks over when Ryan comes up, Vanya on a leash, but even the sight of the dog doesn’t cheer her. “We live _Torono,”_ she tells Ryan. Aaron finds her jacket, and shuts the trunk.  
            “Not anymore,” he says as he helps her put it on, carefully avoids looking up at Ryan. “We’re here because we’re moving, remember? We’re staying in Vancouver. Remember the picture of the house I showed you, and the big yard?”  
            “That’s here?” Clara asks.  
            “Pretty close. Twenty minutes away,” Aaron says, chances a look up at Ryan, but Ryan’s looking down. “Anyways, ready to go?”  
            “Yes!” Clara skips ahead of them, to where there’s a little group of toddlers and their parents. “You’re a princess too!” she says to a little girl in a blue dress.  
            “I didn’t know you were moving here,” Ryan says as Aaron fumbles with his keys, trying to lock the car. “Or that you’d moved away.”  
            “After school, and – my company,” Aaron starts, trying to answer both things at once. He takes a breath, pauses. “I left after graduation,” he says, this ambiguous time, like maybe he left before the summer, maybe it all never really happened. “And I’m working in marketing, for a department store, and they’re opening a new branch out here.” This feels almost familiar, walking alongside Ryan. Things are _different,_ though, they’re always going to be different – Ryan’s always wanted a dog of his own, but Aaron has no idea why he picked the name; Ryan’s quieter, and Aaron has to fill him in on the most basic details of his life now; Clara’s dancing along ahead, Aaron’s life always completely changed because of her, the only good change he’s had.  
            “So how’d you end up with a kid?” Ryan asks, and Aaron knows what he’s really asking, because six years ago, Aaron said _what if I don’t want to be with a guy._ He wants to pretend like he doesn’t know this is what Ryan’s saying, but he owes Ryan this.  
            “I – there were a lot of girls, I was – trying to convince myself,” Aaron says. “I thought I could make myself – un-realise it.” He hadn’t ever realised it, though, and that had been one of the hardest parts, finding out what he felt because Ryan timidly asked _don’t you – feel like that – for me,_ because Ryan saw it first.  
            “I thought I was wrong,” Ryan says, so soft Aaron isn’t entirely sure he heard it, doesn’t know if he’s supposed to reply. “So what happened then?” he asks.  
            “Well – she – Laura, Clara’s mother – just showed up and said Clara was mine and  not her boyfriends, so he didn’t want someone else’s baby, and – and Laura wasn’t ready to have a kid, I’d never trust her with a baby, she was glad I didn’t want her involved anymore, she didn’t want to have anything to do with us. She wasn’t ready for a baby, she was all into hitchhiking everywhere and I’d _met_ her at a club, so it’s not even surprising – not like it’s _fair,_ because if she wasn’t ready for a kid after nine months, why the hell would _I_ have been ready to take a baby after finding out she existed ten minutes ago,  but I just – this tiny little baby, I didn’t want her around all that. I didn’t even get to help pick her name,” he adds uselessly, trails off, doesn’t know what he’s getting at. He’s never told anyone all the pieces of this, and he hasn’t spoken to Ryan in six years but is suddenly giving him everything there is to know. “I mean, look at her. She’s mine, I didn’t want someone else to have her.” She’s only the second person Aaron’s ever considered his. That day he found out about Clara, he didn’t want to lose another person who belonged to him. “So that was when I was twenty-three,” Aaron says. Clara’s running up to the next townhouse, joining a group of kids already at the doorstep.  
            “ _Twenty-three?”_ Ryan gasps out. Aaron just nods. He’d left for Toronto the July after graduation, a falling-apart mess trying to prove to himself he wasn’t into guys, and the next April, he had a month-old daughter. He’d felt almost numb after what he did to Ryan, and suddenly he had more emotions than he knew what to do with, crying out of fear when his baby had a fever, frustrated  at how he felt like such a failure as a parent, lost and helpless and just praying he could take care of his perfect little girl.  
            “Look, Daddy, candy!” Clara comes running back over, holds out her pumpkin.  
            “You ready to go home, then?” he teases, and she shrieks with laughter, shaking her head.  
            “I want to do every house!” She holds her pumpkin towards Ryan, beaming, “see, Ryan, see!” and looks next to the husky, “see, Vanya, I have candy!” She runs along to the next house, catching up with the group of kids.  
            “So what do you do now?” Aaron asks Ryan.  
            “Technical writing.”  
            “Oh,” Aaron can’t help the surprise in his voice. Ryan always said he wanted to be a novelist, although whenever asked what he’d write about, he’d always shrug and say he didn’t know yet.  
            “I’ve got two books out too,” Ryan adds, looking away, and Aaron hears how the words are an afterthought, almost unfamiliar to Ryan, like he doesn’t tell people this often.  
            “What about?” Aaron asks, gets a questioning look in return, exactly what he knew he’d get. “Still play hockey?” he asks, the closest he dares venture to talking about the things they shared.  
            “A little,” Ryan says. Aaron’s afraid to ask if he still plays defense, if he has a new d-partner. Somehow, the idea would cut him as deeply as the idea of Ryan having kids. “You teach Clara yet?”  
            “She’s _four,”_ Aaron says, affronted.  
            “So not yet?”  
            “If I hadn’t taught her by now, I’d have missed out on like, three years of practice!” Aaron says, and Ryan laughs. Aaron nearly stumbles, caught so off guard. It’s just – here they are, entirely new surroundings, no longer all the places they knew but a neighbourhood Aaron doesn’t recognise, taking his daughter out for Halloween, and he still – he still wants to kiss Ryan, this the only thing that has never changed. This is the same as it was at every other moment.  
            Ryan asks more about Clara, because this is easy, Aaron can talk about her at length, and he could be deluded into thinking things feel normal, because he’s making Ryan smile again. For a while, it feels like there are only good different things, because Clara’s thrilled with Ryan and Aaron takes pictures of Clara with his phone, makes one of her and Ryan his wallpaper, and things are different but _good,_ if he just doesn’t think about why he’s here. He can’t fool himself long, though, because as they’re walking back to Ryan’s house, Clara gleefully looking through her pumpkin of candy, he’s thinking about the conversation he’s going to have when they get back.  
            “So if you hadn’t gone to Toronto, you wouldn’t have her,” Ryan says, after Aaron tells him about how hard it is to hide Christmas presents from a three year old in a small apartment. “And you wouldn’t have left Vancouver if-” he trails off, suddenly preoccupied with adjusting Vanya’s leash.  
            “Pretty much,” Aaron says softly. “It’s – it’s weird, how leaving – it was so – but now I have Clara.” He doesn’t know how to articulate himself, explain that leaving was so fucking stupid, the worst thing he did, giving up on Ryan, but it was also the best, because if he didn’t, he wouldn’t have his _daughter,_ and Aaron can’t imagine not having her.  
            “It’s good you left, then,” Ryan says, and Aaron looks up in surprise, “because now you have her.”

“I love her,” Aaron says, “she’s – the only good thing to come of it all. The rest – I regret the rest.” Ryan’s quiet at this, and they’ve gotten to his house, so Aaron can’t say anything more. Ryan opens the front door, and Clara goes running inside after Vanya. Aaron follows Ryan in, can’t stop looking at him, wants, senselessly, to ask what’ll happen when they talk. For a while, it felt like he really did just come here to take Clara trick or treating with Ryan, but that wasn’t te reason, as much as he wishes it could be, just that simple and painless.

“It’s getting late,” Ryan says, and Aaron nearly flinches. Maybe – maybe Ryan’s realised what he wants to talk about, after edging near it, and doesn’t _want_ to talk. It’s nine o’clock, not exactly _late,_ this must be an excuse; if Ryan wants him to go, Aaron will, doesn’t want to force him to hear an apology he doesn’t want. “If you want, you can put her down in the guest room. So we, um.” He bites his lip, and the look he gives Aaron, it makes him want to cry and plead forgiveness right now.

“Yeah, yeah, that’d be great. Thanks.”

He wants it to take forever, but Clara’s so tired she lets him put her to bed easily, insisting only that her princess costume accessories be put on the nightstand right by the bed. Aaron tucks her in, reluctant to leave. He wants to stay in the dimly lit bedroom forever, afraid of what they’ll talk about. But – what he really wants is to be with Ryan, nothing terrifying to talk about, just them.

“I liked trick or treating so much, Daddy,” Clara tells him, yawning. “And my princess costume.”

“I liked it too, sweetie. It was really pretty.”

“Sleepover here?” she asks.

“I don’t know. You go to sleep though, okay? Tomorrow we’ll see the new house, it’ll be really fun.”

“Go home?” Clara pouts. “When we see Ryan again?”

“I- I don’t know,” Aaron stammers out. He doesn’t, he really _doesn’t,_ because what if this goes badly? He didn’t even think Clara would get so attached to Ryan, how could he _do_ this to her, how could he think she wouldn’t? She’s his daughter; it’s in his genes to adore Ryan. “Go to sleep, okay, honey?” He kisses her forehead as she chirps “night-night, Daddy!”

“Ask,” she calls after him when he’s halfway down the hallway.

“Ask what?”

“Ask Ryan when see again!” she calls, and Aaron sighs.

“Go to sleep, Clara.”

He goes back to the living room, where Ryan’s sitting at one end of the couch, and just the sight of him makes Aaron’s heart twist. Ryan is just incapable of sitting on a couch normally, always has his feet up on the cushions, wants to take up as much space as possible, used to sit so close to Aaron. He’s looking at Aaron curiously, so Aaron knows he heard Clara.

“Um, she wants to see you again,” he says, circles around to sit at the other end of the couch. Vanya’s lying on the carpet near Ryan’s side, lifts his head for a moment when Aaron comes near. “Give a little girl a princess crown, you know,” he says, not even sure what he should allow himself to reference, if calling up memories of a book they read when they were kids is even okay. He can’t help it; all of his memories are Ryan’s too.

“Ah,” Ryan says, not really an answer at all. He’s quiet for a minute, looking down at his hands in his lap. “So why’d you come?” he asks finally, so quiet, and the look on his face, _oh,_ it’s like he’s expecting to be hurt.

“I want to apologise,” Aaron says, and it makes Ryan bite his lip, keep his head down. “I – Ryan – I’m so sorry.”

“Yeah, so sorry you didn’t speak to me for six years,” Ryan spits out, and the sudden anger makes Aaron wince. “ _Fuck,_ Aaron, I was your _best friend,”_ he says, and the past tense here, it _hurts._ “You abandoned me! You decided we weren’t gonna be friends anymore, and you had to do it in a way that fucked _me_ up, why did you _do_ that?” he demands, so angry, but there’s more hurt than Aaron knows he wants to show. “You could have just said you didn’t want to be friends anymore, you didn’t have to fuck me up and make me feel like I was fucked up and _wrong_ and – and I know you didn’t want me to be in love with you, Aaron, but you made sure I didn’t even like myself after that,” he says, anger fading into something pained and desperate.

“Ryan,” Aaron says helplessly, wants to plead _I didn’t know, I didn’t know,_ because he wasn’t _thinking,_ he was angry with himself and _so scared,_ he didn’t mean – _oh,_ he didn’t mean to hurt Ryan, never that. But Ryan came to him and admitted to being in love with him and asked so hopefully if Aaron wanted him too, and all Aaron had for him was shock and revulsion and anger, because he was so scared to suddenly have a name for it, what he felt for Ryan. He has no excuses for what he said.

“You told me it was wrong,” Ryan says, voice breaking, “you said you weren’t like that and didn’t want to be, you said I _shouldn’t_ love you, and -” Ryan breaks off, jaw tight.  

            Aaron had said _it’s like I never even knew you,_ and that – that was when Ryan had started to cry.  
            “Ryan,” he tries, but he doesn’t know how to apologise for something _this bad._  
            “I fucking loved you, and that’s what you did to me.” Ryan buries his face in his hands, trembling, and it breaks Aaron’s heart, the worst pain he’s ever, ever known. He _did_ this, this is all his fault, this is all him. He’s made Ryan cry _again._  

            “I’m sorry,” Aaron whispers, sets a hand on Ryan’s knee, wanting to see if he’ll be pushed away or if he can do more. “I’m really, really sorry, Ryan. I was _so fucking stupid,_ I still can’t believe what I did. That was the worst thing I could have done, and I’m _so sorry.”_ Ryan says nothing, but at least he doesn’t shove Aaron away, lets Aaron sit there on his knees, so close.  “I – I keep going back to it, all the time, and I always wish I’d done it differently, I really do.” He wishes he could learn a way to convey how sorry he is, doesn’t think there’s a language for it. Aaron nudges Ryan’s legs aside gently, crawls up to sit beside him, and when Ryan doesn’t move away, Aaron pulls Ryan into his arms. Ryan resists for a moment, but then he wraps his arms around Aaron, and just sobs on his shoulder.

            This isn’t what Aaron should have done, six years ago, because he shouldn’t have ever made Ryan cry. But this – it feels like he’s walked back into the room, dropped to his knees beside Ryan on the floor and hugged him, what Aaron should have gone on to do. It’s taken him years to get here.

            “I was wrong,” Aaron says quietly, holds Ryan so tight. “Ryan, I _never_ should have done that to you. It just – it scared me, because – you said you thought I felt the same way about you.” He strokes Ryan’s back gently, wants to cry for the way Ryan trembles against him. He hates this, how all he can do is hurt Ryan, poor Ryan who was always the best thing Aaron had ever known.

            “You were right,” Aaron says. Ryan sniffles, rubs his eyes with his fist.

            “About what?”

            “When – when you said you thought I – felt differently about you than anyone else. That I treated you different from everyone. You were right, I – I just didn’t realize I was in love with you.”

            “You were?”

            “Yeah, I was. And – I was so fucking stupid, Ryan, I had no _idea._ I just – I’d always felt that way about you. I didn’t understand that it meant I’d always been in love with you.” _Oh,_ how terrified he’d been at the realization, having all the feelings and then realizing what it meant, being hopelessly in love with Ryan before coming to terms with being gay. It was just _too much,_ and Aaron – he couldn’t handle it, he ruined everything.

            And Ryan – he lets go. “You’re not stupid,” he says, head down. “I understand.”

            “Understand?” Aaron wants Ryan back in his arms. He doesn’t know how to ask for that. “Understand what?”

            “Why you left.”

            “Why I left? You do?”

            “Yeah. I’m sorry I caused you so much turmoil.” Ryan still won’t look at him, rubbing at his eyes again. Vanya lifts his head and noses at Ryan from the floor, whimpering.

            “ _Me?_ Ryan, you didn’t do anything wrong,” Aaron says, but Ryan’s just silent. “And – if _I_ was scared, fuck, Ry, you must have been terrified. I was just so scared, I didn’t know what to do, I’m just – I’m so sorry I hurt you.” Ryan still doesn’t say anything, and Aaron can’t stand not to be holding him anymore, so he pulls Ryan back to him, hugs him tight. “I didn’t mean it, when I said – said it was like I never knew you,” he whispers, “I just – I felt like I didn’t know myself anymore, and you – you figured it out before me. I was just scared, Ryan. I’m sorry I was so terrible to you. You didn’t deserve it. You were always so, so sweet to me, and you told me that the same way you did everything. That was the scariest part – it was _exactly_ like you. I knew it was real, and it scared me.”

            “It’s okay,” Ryan says softly, “I forgive you.” Aaron flinches in surprise, looks down at Ryan, open-mouthed.

            “You do? _Ryan,_ you do?” He didn’t – he really didn’t think Ryan would. He hadn’t come out here for forgiveness, knew he didn’t deserve it; he just wanted to Ryan know he was sorry.

            “Of course I do,” Ryan says, and Aaron’s overwhelmed by how much he wants to kiss him. It’s just – it’s so _hard,_ because he doesn’t know how to ask, doesn’t want to trigger the same thing all over again, hurt Ryan _again._ But Ryan’s _here,_ this time he’s in Aaron’s arms, and Aaron won’t walk away this time, won’t ever again.

            “I’m so glad, I – I didn’t think you would, I really didn’t, because it’s not like I deserve it, and I know it was insane to, you know move across the country just because I could see you – and, I mean, I know I could have just visited, but I wanted to – to be around you again,” he finishes, trails off because Ryan’s staring at him and he’s suddenly hyper aware that he’s holding Ryan, and this isn’t – it feels normal, but maybe it’s not supposed to now.

            “You did?” Ryan asks faintly. Aaron can’t stop touching him, strokes Ryan’s arm and holds him close and just looks at him.

            “I _missed_ you. I mean, God, Ryan, you were there every day for twenty-two years and then I fucked up and you were gone, it was – it was hard. I missed you.” He wishes Ryan would tell him, if he still wants him the way he used to, if Ryan still even _likes_ him, but – but he can’t, Ryan would _never_ volunteer that. Aaron made sure of that, when Ryan admitted _I’m in love with you,_ and ended up sobbing _I’m sorry._

            “I didn’t mean anything I said back then,” Aaron says, “I just – I really need you to know that. _Please._ ” Ryan nods, sighs out a slow breath, drops his head to Aaron’s shoulder. “I hated it in Toronto,” Aaron says, mouth against Ryan’s hair. “I hated that it was running away, and it took me a really long time to sort everything out, and it _sucked,_ because whenever anything was wrong, you could – you made it better, and this – I’d made sure you wouldn’t be there, and that was the worst thing.” He’s had nightmares about it for years, about that day, about old memories that suddenly end the same way. He’ll have a dream about the championship game they won when they were in grade twelve, and Ryan hugs him in the locker room, says _I’m in love with you,_ and Aaron makes him _cry._ He’s been ruining every memory he has in his sleep for the past six years.

            Ryan’s still quiet, but it’s different from before, less painful. He’s still shifted onto his side, face buried against Aaron’s neck, arm wound around him, and Aaron just – he likes this. Every time Ryan was upset, Aaron had always wanted to hold him. He drops his hand from Ryan’s arm to his side, strokes over the patch of skin exposed by his rucked-up shirt. Ryan makes a little whimpering sound, nuzzles against Aaron’s neck, his breath barely a sigh. For a second, it’s perfect, and Aaron’s starting to wonder how to word what he wants to say – and then Ryan jerks away with a yelp, covers his face with his hands.

            _“Fuck,_ I’m sorry,” he blurts out, nearly falls off the couch as he tries to put space between him and Aaron, and Aaron doesn’t know _why –_ “we just – you just – and I- _already-_ always ruin fucking _everything-_ ”

            “It’s okay,” Aaron feels like he’s about to panic, forces himself to calm down, because Ryan looks like he’s about to burst into tears and Aaron can’t let that _happen._ He just – he wants Ryan back in his arms, the only coherent thought he really has. “ _Ryan,_ nothing you do – you can’t ruin anything,” Aaron says, reaches for him again, and it’s all he’s done tonight, just wants to make up for the day that he didn’t. “I know I don’t deserve you, but I’m still in love with you, and I’m not leaving unless you want me to.”

            “I don’t want you to,” Ryan says, barely a whisper. “I don’t, I really don’t, do you – you-but-”

            “I didn’t mean to come here and tell you I love you,” Aaron says; he doesn’t know what Ryan wants to hear, but he should have told Ryan the truth then, so he will now. “Because I _do,_ but if you don’t – anymore – it’s okay, it’s fine. But you don’t have to worry about ruining anything.” Ryan just looks at him for a moment, the way he always used to look at Aaron, like Aaron was impossible to turn away from.

            “I couldn’t handle it if you did the same thing again,” Ryan says, broken and unsteady, “Okay? I-I’d let you do it all over again, because I can’t – can’t give up on you – but – but _please don’t,”_ he begs.

            “Never. Never, never again.”

            “I’m still in love with you,” Ryan says, fear on his face, and that’s all Aaron’s fault, but _oh,_ Ryan still loves him, he _still does._ “Please, Aaron,” he pleads, and when Aaron leans in and kisses him, he makes a little whimpering sound of relief, kisses Aaron back desperately.

            “I’ll never leave you again,” Aaron promises, “ _never.”_

            “Aaron,” Ryan kisses him again, his hands fisted tight in Aaron’s shirt, clinging to him. Aaron’s always wanted to go back to that day six years ago, scream at himself _look at him, he loves you, he’s perfect, don’t you dare hurt him,_ and he’ll never be able to fix what he did, but now – now he can make up for it. Now he has Ryan back, can kiss him so he whimpers, hold him and promise _I’m never leaving you again._ They’re different now – Ryan used to impress him with fearless penalty drawing, and now it’s by taking his little girl trick or treating; Aaron used to be able to say he’d never hurt Ryan, and now he’s working to fix the worst mistake he ever made; they used to be inseparable, but now they have this reunion, six years where the world fell apart and is finally coming back together.

            Ryan eventually falls asleep in his arms, pressed against him, and Aaron knows he has an overwhelming amount of work to do tomorrow, going to figure out how to unpack a house with a toddler running around, but he doesn’t want to sleep just yet, wants to be awake for this, Ryan in his arms where he belongs. Maybe it was the way he fits here so perfectly that scared Aaron; he’s never known a perfection like this, and it’s unreal, unbelievable, scared him with how important it was.

            When Aaron falls asleep, he dreams of walking back into the room and pulling Ryan into his arms and kissing him. _You came back,_ Ryan whispers, clings to him tight, _six years, but you came back._

 _I’ve only been gone a minute,_ Aaron says.

            _It feels that way, doesn’t it?_ Ryan says, leans in to kiss him again, _‘s because we’re meant to be together._

_0o0o0o0o_

“Daddy,” Aaron hears, waking him up. He thinks for a second that he must have dreamed the whole incredible thing – but no, Ryan’s asleep on his chest, one arm wrapped around him. Clara’s standing next to the couch, pouting. “You have sleepover without me.”

            “Sorry, princess.” He holds out an arm and she comes over, lets him kiss the top of her head. Ryan stirs a little, doesn’t lift his head.

            “Shh,” Clara admonishes Aaron, “Ryan sleeping, Daddy! _Quiet.”_

 _"_ Okay, baby. I'm sorry." Clara stands by the couch quietly for a moment, looking at them. 

             "Daddy? See Ryan again? You ask?" 

              "Yeah," Aaron says, hugs her close. "Yeah, Clara, we get to see Ryan a lot now." Clara lights up at this, giving him a brilliant smile. 

             "Good, Daddy!" she chirps, and Ryan shifts against Aaron's side. "Quiet, Daddy," Clara reminds him, before she wanders off, calling _“_ Vanyaaaaaa” in a loud whisper.

            “Man,” Ryan mumbles, voice muffled by Aaron’s shirt, “I still can’t believe you have a baby.”

            “You’re telling me.”

            “I always wanted kids,” Ryan muses, yawning. He makes a pleased little noise when Aaron hugs him tight.

            “You’re perfect. All kinds of perfect. And I think my kid likes you better than me.” Aaron kisses Ryan when he lifts his head, loves the delighted sound Ryan makes. “And I love you,” he adds, because he’s always needed to tell Ryan, and it makes Ryan’s eyes light up, this way that’s always been just for Aaron.

            “You’re really not leaving?” Ryan asks, so hopeful.

            “Never again,” Aaron promises. He made that mistake once; it’s a miracle he’s been allowed back, and he’ll never make the mistake of leaving again.


	2. Chapter 2

 

_Six years later_

            “D’you know what I heard Clara say today?” Aaron says as he comes into the kitchen. Ryan looks up from his laptop, where he’s been going over his document for the hundredth time, looking for typos. He rarely does technical writing projects now; all he writes are the novels that used to be what saved him, stories of people with different names, all really just stories of how Aaron could have come back to him. Aaron pushes his laptop lid closed, leans over the counter to kiss him. Ryan reaches over to fist a hand in Aaron’s shirt, keep him close for a long moment.

            “What’d she say?” Ryan asks when they part. “And where is she?”

            “Putting on her costume. Party’s at six.” Clara’s ten now, and Ryan wasn’t thrilled about having her spend the night somewhere else on Halloween, but Aaron had reminded him that Ryan spent half his life sleeping over at his house, and that had somehow helped. Besides, she’s going as a princess; Ryan had a hard time saying no after she told him that.

            “So what’d she say?”

            “She was telling her friend that she dressed up as a princess when she was four, the Halloween she met her dad.” Aaron comes around to lean on the counter beside where Ryan’s sitting, “did you know she remembers that? I didn’t. I mean, she’s still got the crown, but. Her friend was pretty confused,” he snickers, shaking his head, “gotta love how proud she is of that. ‘When I met my dad,’ all happy she can remember it and no one else can say that about their parents.” He wraps his arms around Ryan, presses his lips to Ryan’s temple, slow and lingering. Ryan’s been nostalgic all day, but this, he can’t resist this, turns and hugs Aaron closer to him.

            “I’m so glad you came back to me,” he says against Aaron’s shoulder, “God, Aaron, I can’t even think of where I’d be if you hadn’t. It’s like, you just showed up one year and gave me everything I wanted.”

            “Yeah?” Aaron strokes over Ryan’s hair, so gentle, “what’d you want, Ry?”

            “ _You._ I wanted you back so badly, and I wanted – all this, Aaron, and I knew I’d never want any of it without you, and then you show up with your little girl and it’s like – I don’t know how I got so lucky.”

            “It’s not luck,” Aaron says softly, “’s cos you’re amazing, and I couldn’t let you go.”

            “ _Daaaddyyyy,”_ they hear, Clara’s footsteps coming down the stairs. Aaron tilts Ryan’s face up to kiss him again before he wanders across the kitchen to look around the doorway.

            “Yeah?” he calls back.

            “Where’s Dad? I gotta show him something, and have you seen my  _shoes?”_

            “Yeah, sweetie, I always know where your shoes are at all times.”

            Clara flounces into the kitchen, making a face at Aaron, even though she’s giggling. “Dad, look!” She runs over to Ryan, holding something behind her back.

            “Whatcha got?”

            “Look what I made!” She holds out a handmade crown, beaming. “I made it myself. Just like you showed me.”

            “You remember that, huh?” Ryan draws her into a hug, kisses the top of her head. “It’s beautiful, I love it.”

            Clara goes off to find her shoes, and Aaron comes back to lean on the counter, grinning at Ryan. “Shut up,” Ryan retorts, knows Aaron sees how he’s tearing up. “I’m allowed to cry on Halloween! It’s the day I got my baby girl and my man. This is an important day.”

            “It is,” Aaron agrees, soft and loving, and he kisses Ryan again, long and slow. “We were always missing you,” he whispers against Ryan’s lips.

            Twelve years ago, Aaron left Ryan sobbing on the floor, more alone than he’d ever felt in his life. He came back, though – it took him six years, but he came back for Ryan. He wasn’t there to save Ryan from the unbearable loneliness, and Ryan wasn’t there for the sleepless nights with Clara; they missed a lot, but not everything, they found each other in time, and they won’t miss anything ever again. Aaron came back to him, found Ryan still waiting, and suddenly, unbelievably, they have  _everything._

            Aaron gave Ryan everything he wanted like it wasn’t a miracle, like it’s just the way they were always supposed to be.

 


End file.
